


When Hell-Beast met Satan

by memorizingthedigitsofpi



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Impressions, HuntingBird, Secret Valentine, badass super spies, guns and ammo, lovers under cover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9722888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/pseuds/memorizingthedigitsofpi
Summary: When Bobbi and Hunter first met, they didn't exactly hit it off. Even if sparks flew. Literally.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chinesebakery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinesebakery/gifts).



Bobbi go to the location early. She liked to scope a place out before a meet. It was always good to know your exits, and it never hurt to suss out who might be a threat.

She sat at the bar in her standard mission attire for when she needed to interact with the public: dark jeans, fitted tee, and boots. They were flats rather than heels and they were built for running, but they still looked fashionable enough that she didn't stand out from the crowd.

At least, no more than a tall, gorgeous blonde usually did.

Her leather jacket was folded neatly on the stool to one side of her, saving a spot for her partner Mack. He was the one with the contact they were meeting, so she knew nothing would happen until he arrived.

She resisted the urge to check her watch and instead took her phone out of her back pocket. She checked the time before opening up her news aggregator app and scrolling through the headlines.

" _That_ is just the most unforgivable thing I've ever seen in my life."

Bobbi's eyes flicked up from her phone, but they looked up at the mirror behind the bar rather than at the person now sitting on the stool not occupied by her jacket.

Caucasian. Early 30's. English. London. Track suit hero who thinks he's God's gift but is actually the Devil's backside.

She dropped her eyes back down to her phone and ignored him.

"What sort of a man would leave a woman like _you_ waiting?"

He was sitting sideways to her now, one elbow leaning on the bar and his head propped up on his hand.

Bobbi had met this man before over a dozen times. Not this _particular_ man, but his _type_. Quick-talking. Charming. Dimpled and devil-may-care. She'd never been particularly impressed by him before and things didn't seem to have changed at all.

She continued to ignore him.

"Oh, c'mon Love," he wheedled, reaching out to touch her wrist.

He didn't even make it halfway before Bobbi grabbed his fingers and bent them back painfully, holding him in a grip that said very clearly that she could easily break his wrist.

"When a woman ignores you," she said in a pleasant tone. "That means _go away_." She bent his fingers back just a little bit more to prove her point, then released him. Picking her phone back up from where she'd dropped it on the bar, she started scrolling the headlines again.

She'd expected him to skulk off at that point. Lick his wounds and try his hand at some other poor woman. But instead he just sat down on his stool again and waved down the barkeep for a pint.

He stayed silent until he had his drink and then he lifted it towards her in a mocking 'Cheers'.

"So you're Bobbi, then," he said, taking a sip.

Bobbi closed her eyes, but managed to contain her unhappy groan.

"Hunter?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Got it in one."

"Mack's not coming?"

"Running late."

"Ah. He sent you a picture?"

"Physical description. Not that you're hard to spot."

Giving in, she put her phone back in her pocket and turned to look at their 'outside contractor'. He was grinning at her cheekily and she had to resist the urge slap the smug off his face.

"You have the ID's?" she asked. Fake passports to get them out of the country after their mission was complete. Keeping it business was the best way to handle these guys.

"Uh huh," he nodded. He still had that stupid smug smile on his face, and she wanted to tell him he had nothing to be cocky about. "You have the dud?"

Plan A had been for Bobbi to break into the mark's hotel room and replace the dirty bomb in his secure briefcase with a dummy. She and Mack had been tracking the guy across eastern Europe and had finally pinned him down in Poznan, a small city in Poland, halfway between Warsaw and Berlin. Everything would have been fine if the guy hadn't somehow managed to acquire a portable security array the likes of which you might see at NORAD. 

That's how they'd ended up with Plan B. Tailing the mark until he was vulnerable and taking the dirty bomb by force. They'd worked out their best shot at success, and it was on the road between this bar and the private airport where he was going to fly out of their reach completely. It wasn't a two man job, though. That's why Mack had suggested bringing Hunter in to pinch hit. Mercenaries had their place, after all, and even SHIELD needed to use contractors when timelines were too tight to get an agent on the ground in time. Hunter's payment was going to be the dud bomb they'd crafted to make the Plan A swap. What _he_ was going to do with it, Bobbi didn't want to know.

"Uh huh," she answered. Her own face remained deadpan.

"Great, so now we just need Mack's firepower and we're set to paint the town red then." Hunter picked up his pint and drained the rest of it, 3/4 of a glass, in one go. "And then we can clear out of here. This beer tastes like piss."

Bobbi hadn't liked it either. That's why she'd switched to whiskey. That, and getting it on the rocks made it easy to water down. She needed to stay sharp as much as she needed to fit into the crowd.

She was about to tell him to piss off when her eyes were drawn to the corner of the room she'd been trying to avoid looking at all night.

"Hunter?" she said in a quiet but urgent tone.

"Oh, coming round to me now are you?" he teased. His back was to her as he tried to flag down the bartender for another drink.

"Hunter!" she said more sharply, this time through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, what is it?" he asked. He didn't sound particularly bothered, but he turned to look at her anyway. When he saw her face, his easy smile slid into a mask of seriousness. "Bob?"

She'd tell him not to call her that later, for now they had to move before their mark left the bar. As soon he was out of sight, their chance was gone. Where the hell was Mack?

"They're on the move," she said. It was getting increasingly difficult to watch them without being obvious about it, and she could only be 'looking for a friend' for so long before they realized she was actually looking at _them_.

Hunter laughed like she'd said something funny and picked up his fresh pint. Tilting his head back, he started chugging, but his eyes were moving around the room. He took in the intimidating group in the corner and assessed the various exit points available. He also scanned the crowd, looking for additional threats while counting innocent bystanders.

"New plan," he said as he slammed his empty glass down on the bar. "How's your Polish?"

"Nonexistent," Bobbi shrugged. "But I'm fluent in Russian."

"Close enough." Hunter made a face and hit his chest with a fist, swallowing a belch. "Sorry. Drank too fast."

Bobbi made an exasperated sound, but settled when he got himself back on topic.

"Alright. We've got about five minutes before they leave the bar. They're still trying to flag down that waitress over there and she's steering clear. Probably had her bum pinched one too many times already."

Bobbi snorted. She'd counted at least three attempts, and each one had added to her reasons for wanting to make this guy very _very_ unhappy.

"What's the play?" she asked.

"First up, smile and laugh like you're having a good time with me," he said. His tone was serious, but his expression was flirtatious. He winked.

"Oh god. You're thinking what I think you're thinking aren't you?" Bobbi asked with dread. She laughed and swatted playfully at his arm. Then she picked up her drink and swirled her ice cubes in her glass before meeting his eyes and taking a delicate sip.

"You have a better idea?" Hunter asked. He leaned in like he was whispering in her ear, then spoke into the cellphone he hid in her hair. "Mack? They're moving. Bobbi and I are going for it. Get here _now_ and be ready for cleanup duty."

Bobbi took a deep breath and found her inner calm. Plan C sucked but Plan C was what they had left. Time to sell it.

"We walk right past them, then jump them when they get outside?" she confirmed.

"Got it in one," Hunter grinned.

Despite herself, Bobbi grinned back.

It was probably the adrenaline.

Hunter put some cash on the bar. Enough to pay for their drinks and leave a generous tip. Then he wrapped an arm around Bobbi's waist and started leading her toward the door.

Bobbi laughed and chatted away in Russian, telling him he was so cute and funny and musing about how she hadn't ever seen him there before.

Just before they reached the exit, one of the goons they'd been watching stopped them and Bobbi tried to look a little bit drunk and a lot confused.

"What?" she asked in Russian.

"You can do better than this little man," the goon replied. He was clearly talking about himself, preening even as he sniffed condescendingly at Hunter.

"Good things come in smaller packages," Bobbi said haughtily, tossing her hair and pulling Hunter out the door.

Hunter put up enough of a fight to make it believable, and then they were out in the cool night air.

"What did he say about me?" he asked, looking around for any sign of Mack.

"He said you were short and that I could do better." Bobbi didn't even try not to smile at the look of offense on Hunter's face.

"Short?" he said, full of outrage. "We're the same height!"

Bobbi raised an amused eyebrow, then turned at the sound of the bar's door opening again.

Steeling herself, she grabbed the front of Hunter's shirt and kissed him.

As kisses went, it wasn't anything spectacular. Neither of them were in it for the fun, after all, and both of them knew how to put on a show.

She leaned back against the wall and Hunter buried the base of his palm in the curve of her spine, making it look like he was grabbing her ass. Bobbi tilted her head and opened her mouth a bit so it looked like they were kissing deeply, but neither of them were using their tongue. She made soft sounds of arousal that she didn't feel and watched the door through slitted eyes. Hunter slipped the pistol out of her bag and she grabbed the one in the back of his waistband.

"Ready in 10," she warned him as she watched the goon squad exit the bar. "9... 8... 7... 6..."

The night was eerily silent for a split second as conversation hushed and the bar door creaked closed.

Then all hell broke loose.


End file.
